


my war is over (be my shelter from the storm)

by jostcn



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because I love Zoya, F/M, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jostcn/pseuds/jostcn
Summary: She did not want their love.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	my war is over (be my shelter from the storm)

He haunted her dreams; wiping out the Second Army with the _nichevo’ya._ Destroying the Little Palace. The blood. The torture. The death.

Every Grisha felt the pull of _merzost,_ the temptation of dark magic despite its cost. Power fed Zoya, made her stronger, but after the Darkling’s cruel leadership had ended from the blade of a sun summoner, her longing had quelled. She had enough.

He haunted her dreams, yet even when Zoya was awake, even when she was safe in her position as General under King Nikolai’s reign, she could never get rid of the Darkling’s presence. It certainly didn’t help that the king had the habit of transforming into a murderous monster at night.

Tonight wasn't any different. The demon had escaped the chains she had bound to Nikolai only a few hours earlier, something currently dripping from its fangs in what she hoped was from a farm animal and not a human being. 

“Your Highness,” she began, blowing out a breath of air at her words. She had done this a thousand times—what was so different now? _Last time he almost killed you_. _Last time he almost tore you apart._

"Zoya," it hissed, stalking towards her with its claws raised.

The voice did not belong to Nikolai, and even though she had heard her name used on the Darkling’s tongue a thousand times before with its smoothness, its coolness, she still shivered as fear seized her spine. _He’s dead._ _Move, Nazyalensky._

She could not move.

“Zoya,” it hissed again. Its wings beat behind it, its jet black teeth bared. It would rip her throat out as it had almost done a week ago, would leave the General of Ravka lying in a pool of her own blood on the roof of a church. It would destroy her for her betrayal of the Darkling.

The monster yanked her head back, its mouth pulling upward into a smile as if it could sense her fear. The talons that weren't reaching for her neck dug into her back, creating lacerations in the same place the tiger had marked so long ago.

She did not cry out this time. 

She went limp in its grip, staring into the soulless eyes that were once hazel. Would she let Nikolai end her? Would she, if she finally got some peace?

_Do not look back,_ her aunt said, rattling her skull in the memory. _Do not look back at me._

No. She would not die here and let every effort she had made go to waste. 

She lifted her hands and shoved a gust of wind against the monster, sending it flying backward into the stone wall. She listened to the sickening crunch of bone and kept the pressure on the creature, toeing the trunk on the floor. She kicked it open and lowered her hands to yank the chains out in one quick moment. The monster lurched forward again but one of its wings was bent in a crooked angle, making it easier for her to tighten the metal cuffs around its wrists.

_Safe,_ she thought as she created another force of air to send her prey off-balance after she whistled. Tolya and Tamar were waiting for her by the carriage. Tolya shoved the monster into the coach and tightened its restraints, sensing her hesitation. “Do you want one of us to ride with you?”

“No,” she replied, holding her head high as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. She slouched against the seat as soon as she got inside, a chill running down her spine despite the heat in her back. 

The screech of the chains and snarling did not cease for another few miles. She tried to fall asleep, to calm the rapid beating of her heart that she couldn’t seem to shake and suppress the sound of the monster's resistance, but the only thing she could think about was the Darkling; his cleverness. His ambition. His body burning on the pyre—if he was even truly dead. 

“Zoya,” a gravelly voice murmured, a thousand miles away. “Zoya.”

Her eyes snapped open. The monster was gone, replaced by its true form in the body of Nikolai Lantsov. Blood trailed down his neck, staining the torn shirt she had put him to bed in. His arm hung crookedly at his side, most likely dislocated from her power. 

She pushed her blue _kefta_ off of her and draped it over the seat, the silk nightgown she had underneath clinging to her body. She could feel something trickle down her back, unable to tell if it was her blood or sweat. Sitting beside Nikolai, she rifled through her trunk until she found a canteen and a rag, soaking it and pressing it against his skin. “You made it to Poliznaya this time.”

He sighed, running a shaky hand through his golden hair. The monster was getting stronger and they both knew it. _I am the monster and the monster is me._ “It was well worth it to finally see you in a state of undress, General."

Zoya rolled her eyes and gripped his hand, thrusting his shoulder back into place. Nikolai’s teeth clenched so tight that she thought they might shatter, but he said nothing. “This is the only scenario where you will see such a thing, Your Highness.” 

Nikolai glanced down and took her hands in his with a wince. Zoya didn’t know if it was because of his aching shoulder or the nausea that had most likely come with it. Either way, she couldn’t help but despise herself for the relief that flooded through her with his hands warming hers.

His brows furrowed. “You’re trembling.”

Blood had collected under his fingernails. She withdrew from his grip and placed her fists in her lap to hide her own tremor. The Darkling’s voice still echoed in her head along with the memory of Nikolai almost slaughtering her twice in less than a month. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“I can’t go scaring you off, can I? Who else would snap at me and openly tell me they would murder me whenever I get on their nerves?” He grinned, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had formed. “Did I…”

“Yes,” she said as she threw the rag in her trunk and handed him a fresh shirt and his teal coat. Most other women would have said no, would have reassured him, would have told him that he could get it under control. She wasn’t one of those women. Nikolai needed her iron strength and she would give it to him, not sugar-coated lies to help him sleep at night. “How do you think you dislocated your shoulder?”

“You mean to tell me we weren’t rolling around in love on the church rooftop?” he asked, his humor returning with ease.

“Only in your wildest dreams.”

“Ah, Nazyalensky, keeping me humble.” He pulled the shirt on over his head and fumbled to button it, frowning when he failed and opting to push his bare feet into his boots instead. 

Zoya reached out and buttoned it for him, the anxiety she had faced earlier held at bay. This wasn’t normal but at least it had become routine. She just had to make sure it wouldn't become a habit to almost die every time the monster emerged. 

She turned away from him to close the trunk and flinched when his hand wrapped around her arm. 

"Your back," he said when she faced him. His cheeks paled—or had they been that way?—and he scrambled for the trunk to reopen it. "You didn't say anything."

"I'm fine." 

Nikolai shook his head, wetting a clean rag. He gathered her raven-black hair and brushed it over her shoulder until it rested in front of her. She grimaced when he placed it against her wound, but he kept his pressure light, a gentle caress across her back.

"Forgive me," he murmured, his breath hot against her neck. She listened to him drop the cloth in the trunk and felt his hands leave her back. The air had gone cooler when he inched away and created a bigger distance between them.

She looked to him again, not bothering to reply. He reached into the pocket of his coat and began to fiddle with the piece of paper in his hands, folding it and unfolding it several times. His foot tapped against the floor of the carriage in an offbeat tempo.

“What is that?” Zoya asked. _Is it for me?_

He unfolded it and held it out to her, not letting go of it completely. She watched him swallow. “It’s one of my mother’s letters to Magnus Opjer.”

_Bastard King._ “And what are you doing with it?” she scoffed, snapping out of her daze and jerking it from his hand. She had already been forced to destroy the portrait of his father that he had hidden. This was only more evidence for their enemies, more fuel to give them so they could light the fire and overthrow Nikolai.

The King’s jaw tightened. He stiffened, holding out his hand. “Give it to me or I’ll have you hanged.”

She narrowed her eyes, crumpling the letter in her fist and shrugging her _kefta_ back onto her body. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m sure you’d be surprised," he said. There was no shame on his face as his extended hand shook, no shame in the weakness brought upon by the monster. It had been a long night, and while she could not identify any shame in his manner, she could see his patience was wearing thin. "Give it to me, Zoya." _One day you will overstep and I will not be so forgiving._

“There is no point in keeping it,” she stated as if he was a child and she was his parent. She placed the letter in his palm anyway. “It only makes you more vulnerable.”

He dismissed her with a wave and flicked a speck of dirt off of his shiny boots. “It’s my choice. If I am dethroned, then you can lead. Although I’m not concerned, so you shouldn’t be either.”

Always so confident. So sure. Fury settled in the pit of her stomach and refused to take leave. “You’re willing to risk your position as the king of Ravka for a father that doesn’t love you?”

“You don’t know that, dear Zoya.”

“He is our enemy.”

“He cared for my mother.”

“He is Fjerdan,” she said. “He and his country would wage war on us without so much as a second thought. They sided with the Darkling in the last one, do you not remember? He may have cared for your mother but that doesn’t change who he is and it doesn’t mean he cares for _you_.”

She was the Commander of the Second Army. Member of the Grisha Triumvirate. First Minister of Ravka. Protector of the Realm. She was Nikolai's leading General and his loyal companion. She was trying to keep him safe… So why did the words leave such a bitter taste on her tongue?

“You’re blinded by rage,” Nikolai said, not bothering to elaborate. _For Liliyiana. For Lada. For every person you’v_ _e lost._ “The war is over but you can’t see it. You’ll never be able to heal if you continue to dance with the Devil.”

“I am blinded by rage because somebody has to be.” _Because I can’t bring them back, Because I didn’t do enough._ “They deserve my vengeance.” 

_Beware of your power, Zoya. There is no amount of it that can make them love you._

She did not want their love. 

Nikolai leaned back against the seat. “Trust me when I tell you that I understand, Zoya. I promise that we'll give them justice if you promise me to try to keep your head clear. You are a good leader."

_There is no amount of power that can make them love you. There is no amount of power that can make_ him _love you._ Yet a small bout of satisfaction filled her veins anyway. The treacherous waves of the ocean receded, pulling her anger, her fear, her confusion along with it. _Ravka needs you._ Nikolai _needs you._ “I am, aren’t I?”


End file.
